


What Then?

by Curt_Kenobi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas got a bad mouth when he fell from Grace, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Explicit Language, Gen, POV Second Person, passing reference of suicidal ideation, ramble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8146619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curt_Kenobi/pseuds/Curt_Kenobi
Summary: Becoming a mess of an addict? So not an overnight thing. Very much the shit-flows-downhill-snowballing-to-a-fucking-avalanche idea.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, one of my writer's block efforts from 2012; just a little rambly, druggy meta ficlet on rambly, druggy Endverse!Cas.

**Title:** What Then?  
 **Author:** Curt Kenobi  
 **Rating:** T/PG-13   
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
 **Warnings:** 2014!verse - Cas!centric, language (as always), written in 2nd person (weird literary bunny has been weird with Supernatural fic), addiction, passing reference of suicidal ideation  
 **Summary:** Becoming a mess of an addict? So not an overnight thing. Very much the shit-flows-downhill-snowballing-to-a-fucking-avalanche idea.  
 **Disclaimer:** Not mine; don't sue. Just another fanly fanboi playing with the pieces to console myself over the fuckery that is S7. -.-

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Becoming a mess of an addict? So not an overnight thing. Very much the shit-flows-downhill-snowballing-to-a-fucking-avalanche idea. A little here, a bit there. Ease the aches of a hard day; quiet the rambling mind for a bit of shut-eye. Here and again. It helps. ...And then a day comes when the shit's really hit the fan and -- hey, y'know what? That helps; let's try it. Maybe a bit more than typical ('cos shittiness and the answer are proportionate, right?) and then maybe shit calms down -- Whatever's Out There help you if it doesn't, 'cos eventually you might as well eat a round, but anyways -- you realise that when the shit was up, you found a spot where _you didn't feel it_. Not masking it, like how you got by before, but actually beyond acknowledging the depth and breadth of the sheer painful fuckery. So you make that the new goal to reach...make it the new baseline. That's nice. ...And hey, this substance over here can do something comparable and -- well, holy hell. That felt something almost like _fun_. So you discover and experiment and add to your repertoire a few more things along that route.

_Shit snowballs._

And one day, you're coming round lying in your own vomit, no clue what/when/why, high as a fucking kite in that unnerving space between giddy and hysteric, laughing or sobbing, and you think, _How the fuck? Wasn't I -- I was getting by._ And then you realise that that was ages ago, and your coping mech was your fucking tour guide down the road to this shit-end. And it dawns on you that the coping's just as fuckity-shit as reality now.

What the fuck do you do then?

...It scares you that you might just think that this -- is preferable. And your answer may just be, " _I'd do just the same_."


End file.
